I Will Never Let You Go
by TheShadowlessGirl
Summary: I chose. I didn't have to, but I did. I went in your place. I volunteered for you. A girl who I never cared to know. Because I was sick of living and ready to die. But you gave me a reason. You and him. I won for you. MY HEART DIED FOR YOU. AND HE DIED FOR ME. Now it is my turn to tell my story. It is my time to live and be who I am supposed to be. Never Forget what really happened
1. The Choosing

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games! Please R & R! I know people have been reading it based off of my Traffic Graph. Thanks!**

* * *

Haymitch was never the only living victor of the Hunger Games from District 12. Three years ago I won. I was only twelve. The youngest victor ever to win the Hunger Games. My name is Cardiff Sarasate. And this is the story of how I survived three Hunger Games.

I was an orphan who had lost all of her family in the same mining accident that Katniss and Gale lost their fathers in. I had nothing left to live for. So I decided that on the first year my name was to be put into the pool of tributes I would volunteer in whoever's place. I wanted to die. Until somebody gave me a reason to want to live.

We marched in single file as the Reaping was about to take place. I was nobody special. I was just some half-starved orphan. I blended in with all of the other kids who had grown up in the Seam - black hair and olive toned complexions - except for one thing. I had green eyes instead of grey.

My physique was that of an athletic girl. I was angular in the hips and shoulders, tight and flat in my abdomen, and had long-limbs. Even though I was not exceptionally attractive, I still had great symmetry in my face and a well balanced body. Standing at five feet, four inches gave me the appearance of someone much older.

I was never one to speak much. I only spoke when spoken to.

We were all standing by age group in, youngest in the front and oldest in the back. At least I won't have far to walk when I volunteer there is no chance of her missing me once I do.

Effie Trinket strutted onto the stage and gave her signature speech and the anthem played. The same dull, yet heart-wrenching ceremony every year. Effie made her way to the bowl full of the girl's names.

Please pick me. Please pick me. I silently wished.

Effie reached into the bowl and drew out a name.

"Anine Scribe!" she announced.

A group of teenagers from the back of the section gasped. A pretty girl about the age of sixteen made her way forward. She had long brown hair and large brown eyes. You could easily tell it took all of her strength not to turn around and bolt. Well pretty soon she was going to be put out of her misery.

She slowly mounted the stage with measured steps. Effie beckoned her towards her and had her face the crowd. Then came the question I was waiting for.

"Any volunteers?"

"I volunteer." I called out in a strong voice.

The crowd seemed to cease to exist. Then Effie let out a shrill cry.

"Who said that?" she asked the question with a little too much enthusiasm.

I raised my hand. And the whole crowd turned to look at me. But the face I never forgot was the look of Anine Scribe. She looked at me with such gratitude. Never in my whole life had I ever received that look. And it was too bad that I would never receive it again.

The next name she called was another boy from the orphanage. Roman Cede.

We were ushered into the Justice Building.

I waited in the room for my visitors. Of course I would not be receiving any visitors. Or maybe so I thought.

The girl I had volunteered for cam running in. she grabbed me and wrapped me in a tight embrace. She pulled back and held me by my shoulders.

"Thank you… thank you so much!" tears were pooling in her eyes. "Why did you do it?"

I shrugged "I'm an orphan."

"But even orphans want to live."

"Look, I didn't do it because I cared about you; I did it because I have nobody left."

"Oh, I know. It's just," she looked behind her at the door "I've seen you throw knives. You can win."

I looked at her in disbelief. "When has anyone ever seen me throw knives?"

"Your not the only one who sneaks around the district after curfew. Look, I just know you can do it. I've seen you. The only thing that's not in your favor is your age. But whatever you do, don't go into the cornucopia.'

"Don't you think I know that already?"

"Yes. I can tell. You're smart. You've managed to keep yourself alive in that thing that they call an orphanage. Just go for the back-pack closest to you and you run in the opposite direction. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

She grabbed me and held me against her. "You are the bravest person I have ever met. God have mercy on your soul. I will pray for you every night."

Then the guards came and took her away from me. I was always a loner, but now I knew that if I did come back, I would have a friend.

* * *

We were now on our way to the Capitol. We were sitting in the dining room car. A picture of President Snow hung at the far end of the room, above a bowl of fruit. I sat at the table across from Effie. Roman sat in an over-stuffed arm chair in the corner. He was curled up in a ball, crying most likely.

Roman was a sickly fifteen year old boy. His short black hair and sunken grey eyes made him look like an underfed puppy. He was still pretty tall, but growing up in an orphanage where almost all the children were starving didn't help either. I was lucky. I began sneaking out of the orphanage to scavenge for food and practice my knife throwing away from the prying eyes of the peacekeepers.

Effie was nice enough, maybe even too nice. Maybe it was because she was too eager to have a volunteer who was twelve. Haymitch was just drunk as usual. I understood why though. After the games, your mind gets eaten by so much grief that you need some way to cope.

"Well, well, well," Effie trilled. "Aren't you fascinating. The first volunteer of District 12. Oh, we can play that up. Can't we Haymitch?" she turned and looked at Haymitch who merely grunted.

I stared evenly at her.

"Well don't you speak?" she inquired.

I was the strong silent type. Not some preppy girl from District 1.

"I prefer _not_ to speak to capital trash," I retorted.

Haymitch began to guffaw, spewing his hazardous fumes into the air.

"Well!" Effie huffed,"You tributes never come with proper manners."

"Maybe we would have some, if the spoiled, overprotected, slipshod, idiotic, fashion-obsessed, altered, and ignorant citizens of the Capitol weren't so busy stuffing themselves with the food we grow, and keeping themselves warm with the coal we mine, and wearing the clothes we make. Then maybe you can speak to me about manners! And you think the Capitol is so merciful, killing innocent children every year! How about offering your own for a change!"

"That is treason!" Effie shouted. "You could be killed for that.'

I looked at her in disbelief. I lurched forward, acting as if I was going to dive across the table and strangle her, "Excuse me, but they are already sending me to my death."

"Well, you should have never volunteered." she whimpered, shrinking back into her chair.

"I had my reasons." I replied sitting back.

"Well she's a fighter," Haymiitch huffed in the corner.

We both turned and looked at him.

"How do you know?" Effie questioned.

"Effie, have you ever had a girl, let alone an orphan, from District 12 challenge you? She volunteered for a reason, and when she is ready she'll tell us."

Huh? Maybe Haymitch wasn't as drunk as I thought he was. Haymitch stood and stumbled toward me.

"The girl you volunteered for told me you were good with a knife."

I simply stared back at him.

"Show us what you got."

He then picked up the knife that was on the table and tossed it to me. My hand shot out and snatched the knife from the air. Years of practice had made knife throwing a second nature to me. It was how I survived.

I looked evenly back at Haymitch, debating with myself whether to throw the knife or not. But instincts won in the end. I drew my arm back, flicked my wrist, and exhaled as the knife flew from my hand. It stuck just where I had aimed it. Right in between the eyes of President Snow.

Effie gasped, Roman looked up from his curled position, and even Haymitch let out a low whistle.

"She was right."

* * *

We had now arrived and been at the Capitol for a day. The opening ceremonies of the games were the same as always. Roman and I wore those ugly miner's jumpsuits on the chariot ride and were booed by the crowd.

Today we were going to go to the training room to meet the other tributes officially for the first time.

The careers were all glorious. The fiery redhead girl and the angelic faced boy from District 1 were both deftly talented with all of the weapons. The tall, dark haired girl from District 2 was built for hand to hand combat. Both of District 4's tributes were tanned, golden haired gods from Greek mythology. The rest of the tributes were of no matter, except for the sixteen year old, male tribute from District 2.

He was built and bred for the games. He was tall and muscular, with thick sandy colored hair. But unlike the other careers, he was smart and calculating. He would definitely be the person to beat in the games. He was an imposing person. His name was Cota. Cato's older brother.

I stuck to learning about traps, knot tying, gathering, and other forms of survival. My combat was fine as long as I learned a few things in hand to hand. I had learned how to dodge various object while I roamed the streets of District 12. More often than not, various items were thrown at me to stop me from scavenging in the towns people's garbage.

I did not need the careers marking me as a target, so I practiced my knife throwing in my apartment.

One day while I was working in the knot tying section when a large body sat down next to me. I did not look up from my work. We worked next to each other silently. He never spoke and I never did either. But there was something strangely comfortable about the boy from District 2.

* * *

The night of the interviews were here. Effie had been teaching me how to walk in heels and a formal dress, while Haymitch tried to give me pointers on how to appeal to the audience.

"Smile more." he demanded.

"What's the point? Everybody is just going to want to know why I volunteered."

"Well, tell 'em."

Effie was even more annoying.

"Head up. Shoulders back. Chest out."

The only exciting thing for me was when my designer brought in my dress.

It nearly took my breath away. The soft, ice, light blue bodice was adorned by sheer lace and hung off of my shoulders, accentuating my my collar bone. The sleeves were long, bellowing out ever so slightly to create a bell over my wrist. The white material underneath the lace was cut straight across.

The back of the dress dove down into a deep V. A belt off satin was tied around my waist, defining my narrow waist.

The dress's skirt was made of satin, pleated and floor length. The exact same color as the lace.

It was the complete opposite of what the tributes would ever wear. Usually they wore anything to play up sexiness and appeal.

My dress made me appear innocent, beautiful, and fragile. And yet somehow powerful. Like ice.


	2. Chapter 2

I stood looking at myself in the mirror. I no longer looked like that half starved girl from District twelve. I looked more like the Mourner of the Lake, as the people of District 12 call her. She is said to be the bride of the man was executed at the "Hanging Tree". The few people who dare venture into the woods say that her ghost can still be seen mourning for her lover at the lake. Hence the name.

My hair had been curled and swept back from my face into a large mass of intricate swirls at the nape nape of my neck. There was a small clip stuck in the curls that looked like a frozen, silver branch with diamonds at the tips, making it appear as if it was scintillating and covered in fresh morning frost.

My makeup was kept to the bare minimum. My cheeks were dusted with the faintest hint of silver and white, as were my eyelids. Never in my life had I thought i could ever be beautiful.

The designers for the two tributes from District 1 were definitely playing the sexy card. The girl came out in a red mini dress with a neckline that dropped all the way to her waist. The boy came out in an all black and sleek suit.

The District 2 tributes were absolutely breathtaking. The girl's dark hair was brushed straight back into a ponytail. Her dress was emerald green, trimmed with jewels of every color. The skirt had a slit that ventured even further than he hip, crossing over her waist and all the way up to the center of the collar of the dress. The only thing covering her credentials was the smallest bit of extra sheer nude fabric. She even made the girl from district one look modest.

But Cota left every body else out in the dust. He came out in simple khakis and a creamy, white button down. He looked more like an angel than a boy trained to kill.

Every other tribute was played up to look as provocative as possible. Except for the two of us.

Ceasar Flickerman was dressed up in an all yellow getup this year. He looked like a flaming beam of sunshine.

Ceasar was good at drawing out laughter from the crowd. He made them like you, even just the smallest bit.

All of the career girls were attempting to be alluring, coy, flirtatious, and coy. District 1 and 4's boys were being absolute positive brutes. But Cota appeared to be a soft spoken boy with intelligence.  
"Well, Cota, tell me," he looked out at the crowd "I just know that every single person in here is dying for me to ask this question." He turned and winked at the audience. "Is there a girl waiting for you in your district." asked Ceasar.

He froze, "Uh… well…"

Ceasar sat back. "Ahh… so there is a girl."

"No!"

"There isn't?"

"No… well… yes… uh… I don't know."

"What do you mean? Sure, a handsome lad like you shouldn't have any problem with the ladies," he hinted.

"It's not that. It's just that I know she wouldn't want me."

"Oh, really? Why wouldn't she want you. All you have to do is win these games and even if she still turns you down every other girl in your district will be head over heels for you."

"Well even if she did want me I wouldn't be able to have her."

"And why's that?"

"Because she is from a different district," he blurted.

Ceasar reached over and patted his arm. "I'm sure President Snow would make an exception for you," he replied looking out to the audience who screamed their support.

"No, that won't help," he answered lowering his head.

"Yes?"

"There's only one way I could have met a girl from another district," he whispered.

The audience erupted. Every single female tribute was all ears. Except for me of course. The redheaded bombshell from District 1 leaned forward expectantly.

This time Cota laughed wholeheartedly, "Sorry, Ceasar, I don't give in so easy."

"Well, when will we find out?" Ceasar asked gesturing towards the audience. The audience erupted again. This time screams of agreement.

"I think you will find out in the arena," he winked at Ceasar.

* * *

I slowly walked onto the stage. I waited for the audience to scream at how disgusting I looked. But none of that happened. Ceasar just slowly stood and walked towards me with his hand extended out for mine. The audience took in a slight gasp.

"I have seen pretty tributes, but never have I seen a creature as beautiful as this wander into our midst." he breathed. Ceasar enveloped my hand in his own and kissed it ever so lightly. He guided me to the seat across from him.

"Cardiff. You have been, undeniably, one of the most popular tributes in the games this year. First with you volunteering, and now with the impressive score of ten in your training scores. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Oh I had totally forgotten our training scores.

* * *

I slowly walked to the center training room. I had waited all the week to get my hands on those wonderfully carved and sharpened knives that fit so delicately in my hand. I had also been waiting for the chance that I might get to show off my skill, instead of having to hide it from all of the other tributes.

I made my way towards the table that held the knives and picked up three in each hand. I turned and looked at the Gamemakers and called out in a loud voice, "Cardiff Sarasate. District 12."

Some paused to look at me, but most had been there too long and were too drunk to even notice.

I turned back to towards the targets that were hanging from the ceiling.

I drew my arm back and let the knife fly from my hand with an exhale. It hit the heart of the target dead center. I passed another knife from one hand to my other and threw it, aiming at the rope that the target hung from. It severed the rope. The target fell from the air to the ground.

That is when my fun began. I launched another knife towards the standing dummy used for spear throwing and watched as my weapon found its mark in the center of the head. Almost at the same time, I sent my next knife whizzing into the the heart of another dummy.

For my final act, I looked both ways over my shoulders and suddenly ducked sending both blades from both of my hands simultaneously. They pierced the other two dummies, one in the heart and the other in the neck.

I turned expectantly to the judges waiting for their approval, but all I saw were drunken faces. I had just put on a show of excellence and they have been too drunk to notice.

Without being excused, I walked out of the training center, Under any other circumstances, this act of defiance would have had me executed.

I was shocked when I saw the number ten flash behind my face on the screen.

* * *

I balked at the question. "Well, I believe that the judges found my performance satisfactory."

"Ah... well they must have."

_Here it comes._

"Now pray tell me... Why would a young girl with so much life left for her to live volunteer for the games"

I glanced down debating whether the truth would be beneficial to me in any way. I decided to give them the harsher side of my countenance.

"Put yourself in the shoes of a nine year old girl who has lost all of her family. Her mother, her father, and all of her siblings. Imagine how this young girl must feel. Alone, mournful, depressed, and left to rot in District 12's excuse for a orphanage. This little girl lost her parents have been killed in a mine explosion. This little girl now has nothing left to live for."

I am that little girl. I died on the same day my parents and all of my siblings did. That is why I volunteered. Instead of letting the Capitol kill another child with _so much more life for her to live."_

Thankfully, just at that moment the buzzer for the end of my interview went off. Ceasar stood took my hand and lead me off the stage.

The anthem played, and all of the tributes walked back to our quarters.

As we walked into the building, a hand caught my arm just above my elbow. I was so shocked when I saw who was holding me. I was staring into the blue eyes of Cota.

"When you get into the arena, look for me. But if you can't, get a pack and run. I will find you," he whispered harshly. Then he shook me and marched away.

As he did, girl from his district asked what our conversation was all about.

"Oh! just telling her to stay out of our way if she doesn't want to die," he snickered.

The walked away laughing, but right before the turned the corner, he turned and smiled at me.


End file.
